Tether
by Joe Normal
Summary: Xander's POV the day after The Zeppo.


A/N: I own nothing. All characters and such are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, the WB or UPN depending on how you look at it. All I own is my perspective, warped and inconsistent as it may be.  
  
If I was anymore tired right now I could probably be declared legally dead.  
  
It's not that Study Hall isn't fascinating in its own right. But when you've lived on the Hellmouth this long, everything you do is relative.  
  
Relatively boring.  
  
Relatively tough.  
  
Relatively life threatening.  
  
Last night was supposed to be my night off. Not by my choice, mind you. Xander the walking liability was *told* to take the night off. One bad week out in the field and suddenly people think you're the Zeppo of the group.  
  
I've been trying for the last couple days to get that phrase out of my head.  
  
Zeppo.  
  
When Cordelia Chase wants to press a button in your psyche, she makes sure to dig one of her perfectly manicured nails in there to break skin and leave one of those really small annoying cuts that take forever to heal for some unknown reason. Well, I'm sure there's a reason. But I certainly don't pay anymore attention in this "class" than I did in Biology.  
  
It's not that the phrase is insulting to me anymore. Last night proved to me anyway that I'm as equipped as anyone in the Scoobs to single-handedly foil a supernatural conspiracy, or in terms of last night, criminal zombies trying to blow up the school.  
  
But where does Cordelia get off telling me that I'm worthless? All of Cordelia's quips and Prada bags would have done nothing to stop O'Toole or the Hellmouth from doing whatever the hell Buffy and the gang prevented it from doing last night.  
  
She's just angry with me, and compensating by cutting me down.  
  
I don't know if its making her feel better, but she is doing a masterful job of making me feel like shit.  
  
I sigh and stare at my desktop.  
  
"You're quiet," Oz observes from the desk next to me.  
  
"Sorry Mr. Kettle, Mr. Pot is just tired," I shoot back with a typically sarcastic reply. Oz is unfazed as he continues reading a guitar magazine. I'm never going to be cool if I hang out with people who are cool by default. A pretty stupid thing to worry about being Senior Year and all, but I only have so many more months of being this shallow and chalking it all up to being a teenager.  
  
"Me too!" Willow chirps as she turns in her seat in front of Oz to face me. "I still want to hit the Bronze tonight though."  
  
"That's right, Will. If you miss even one performance by the Dingoes, then the Hellmouth has already won" Buffy throws back with a little snark. As she turns to join the conversation that is about to erupt, she disturbs the typically stale school air with her own unreal scent. It reminds me of her house. Then her bedroom. Then I shake myself out of enjoying that nice little potential fantasy because I'm already beginning to drool and I don't feel like having Buffy bust me (again that is) while I'm having an impure thought circus in my head. The point is, as it always is, that Buffy smells really nice.  
  
"So you're going to take tonight off the patrol circuit and join us at the Bronze?" Will asks excitedly.  
  
"With bells on, and a permission slip from Giles and Mom no less" Buffy answers.  
  
"Will Angel be there?" Willow asks with more excitement. I think she'll explode soon. I close my eyes to tune out the conversation and pretend to sleep as soon as I hear "Angel". Yes, I am jealous of him. In some way I fear I always will be.  
  
I'm not good with competition or rejection. Hell, I'm not good with girls in general.  
  
Praying Mantis Teacher. Soul Eating Inca Mummy Girl. Cordelia.  
  
My tryst with Willow. We're still not sure how that came to happen. Hormones I suppose. At least Oz is the forgiving type. Cordelia has no reason to forgive me though. I'm not expecting a touching reconciliation anytime soon.  
  
To this day I can't figure out what possessed me to try and ask Buffy out. But I guess hindsight is 20/20.  
  
The strangest thing is I've had the least romantic involvement with Buffy, yet I still can't let go of her. Even now my eyes are open again and leering at her profile as she continues to talk with Willow. The perfectly smooth and tan back that is exposed by her tank top. Her golden hair that she probably balled up in the span of two seconds with a hair clip, yet still looks totally organized. The way the sun touches the contours of her face, especially her lips and eyes.  
  
Perfect.  
  
And I'll never really know that.  
  
I feel my chest tighten up a little bit with that admission and I close my eyes again. It's still too hard to let go all at once. Now I'm beating myself up for moaning over this still, even after what transpired last night.  
  
I had sex. With Faith.  
  
Don't get me wrong. It was great. Not that I have a basis for comparison or anything. But I thought, and certainly felt, that it was amazing. But I got the distinct impression from Faith that it was a one-time offer. Maybe it was the fact that she threw me (not literally, thankfully) out the minute we were done. I was all ready for the cuddling and meaningful post-coital discussion, too.  
  
This just reinforces my point that I'm a total moron when it comes to women.  
  
And now I'm alone again.  
  
During the pity party going on in my head, I caught that Angel will in fact be attending the Bronze tonight. That settles that I suppose.  
  
"How about you Xand? Care to join us?" Buffy turns in her seat to face me know to ask this. She's still as beautiful as she was a few minutes ago. I take my usual moment to be in awe at her before replying.  
  
"I think I'll skip tonight," I respond, surprising even myself at the answer. Even Oz has lifted his attention away from his magazine to survey the conversation again. You'd almost think I had told them I was pregnant with the weird wide-eyed silences being exchanged.  
  
"Why?" Willow asks sadly.  
  
"I'm just tired," I yawn weakly to keep the act going. I'm not so tired that I can't hang out at the Bronze. Really I'm just tired of class.  
  
"Please," Buffy begs as she puts her hand on my arm and squeezes lightly. She's in full on Pout Mode as we make eye contact. In an alternate universe where Angel doesn't exist I'm taking this as a good sign as to why I should ask Buffy out. But I got stuck with this reality.  
  
I pull my arm away from Buffy's grasp and fold them so that I can feign like I'm going to try to nap again soon. Part of it is that I can only take so much Buffy contact before getting, you know, excited. Another part of me is unreasonably paranoid that she'll somehow feel Faith on me. Its crazy, I'll admit. Either way, Buffy is a little miffed by my withdrawal and giving me a very concerned look.  
  
"Seriously, I'll be no fun tonight. You guys will have way more fun without me".  
  
The gang continues the conversation without my interaction. The day will not end fast enough, and I have too many more periods of class to get through. Now I'm trying to figure out if this Bronze trip is going to be the centerpiece of the conversation at lunch, and several scenarios of how I can get out of it without seeming really obvious start racing through my brain. This would be a lot easier if I had more friends, but again, this reality isn't big on helping me out.  
  
Speaking of alternate realities, I spot Anya on my way down the hall.  
  
She is gorgeous.  
  
Knowing my luck, she'll be my next love interest. My resume seems to be pointing at girls with her profile. Beautiful yes, but the emotional baggage is too big to get on the plane and too filled with explosives to make it past the airport screeners. I have to imagine it would be no different with a thousand-and-some-change year old ex-vengeance demon.  
  
She catches me looking at her and I quickly turn away. If I want venomous looks I can get them from Cordelia, so I do my usual routine of staring at the floor as I walk down the hall towards my locker.  
  
"Why are you mad at us?" Buffy asks sneaking up behind me as we walk down the hall.  
  
Here we go again. It would almost be worth it for me to say I was going and then not go. But knowing Buffy and Willow, they would get worried and start thinking I was attacked by something on the way over to the Bronze. Then they would get mad after burning a night looking for me only to discover that I was hiding in my bedroom the whole time.  
  
"I'm not mad, just tired for the 100th time today," I sigh not making eye contact with her.  
  
"Look if its about last night, we were just worried," Buffy starts but I can't take much more.  
  
"No its not," I interrupt and stop to face her. "Look, have I ever held a grudge?"  
  
Buffy cocks both eyebrows in an attempt to say yes, without actually saying it.  
  
"Outside of undead boyfriends you might've had or still have? Whatever." I qualify.  
  
"I guess not," Buffy answers. Shuffling her feet and staring at the floor as she admits it. Damn she can be cute sometimes.  
  
Anyway.  
  
"Right, I don't. I'm just tired. Okay?" And so I leave for my locker after she half nods.  
  
I don't like how that ended.  
  
Now I think I should apologize.  
  
Maybe tomorrow.  
  
No matter how mad I am at Buffy I can't stay away for very long. As much as I will never know what it would be like to touch her or kiss her, she will never know how long I've been keeping these feelings for her. This reality that I hate so much has tethered me to her, and I can't break from it as hard as I try.  
  
I want to leave Sunnydale, at least for a while, but almost certainly after graduation.  
  
If I go far enough, fast enough, and stay away long enough maybe the tether will break.  
  
I just hope my car doesn't break down on me in the process.  
  
FIN 


End file.
